Tamana stood in the doorway of her modest apartment, watching her two children race across the lawn, their laughter filling the air on a quiet afternoon. It was a sound she hadn’t heard much in the years since they’d left Afghanistan. A sound that felt like life, like hope.
Just a few years ago, in the dust-choked streets of Kabul, life had looked very different. Tamana had a husband, a small home, and dreams of raising her children in peace. But one morning, her husband left for work and never returned. Days turned to weeks, and the silence became an answer no one wanted to speak aloud. He was presumed dead. Questions would go unanswered.
Grief wrapped around Tamana like a shawl she couldn’t shake off, but the safety of her children pushed her forward. Eventually, with the help of international aid and an arduous application process, Tamana was granted refugee status and brought to the United States. She arrived with three small children, three bags, and no English.
They were resettled in a quiet suburb outside Atlanta. Life in America was strange, overwhelming, but safe. That alone was a gift. Still, Tamana was often lonely. She didn’t know how to drive. She couldn’t understand the paperwork that came in the mail. Her children started school and adapted quickly, but Tamana often felt like she was standing still in a world that rushed past her.
Then the church came.
At first, it was groceries. A woman named Susan arrived with warm bread, rice, and fruit, and a kind smile. Then came help with doctor appointments, school enrollment forms, and long rides to the grocery store. The church, a nearby congregation that had partnered with a refugee ministry, had quietly stepped into her life. They didn’t ask for anything. They simply showed up, embodying the love of Christ in every act of kindness.
Susan, in particular, became more than just a helper. She became a friend. She listened to Tamana’s broken English with patience and sat with her on quiet afternoons while the children played. One day, Susan invited her to church.
Tamana hesitated. She was a Muslim, raised with reverence for her own faith. But the love she had seen from these people stirred something in her. Not pressure, not arguments, just kindness. So she went.
At first, the music and the prayers were foreign to her. But the feeling in the room was not. It felt like peace. Over time, as she returned week after week, listening more than speaking, watching more than engaging, a slow transformation began. She started to understand not just the language, but the heart behind it.
“It wasn’t the words,” Tamana would later say. “It was the love. The love of the Christians in my life. That is what led me to Jesus.”
As time passed, Tamana’s faith began to grow. But not without challenges. She had to make hard decisions. One of the most difficult came when Tamana relocated to a new town. The familiar community she had found near Atlanta seemed so far away. She worried about starting over again; about finding the support she needed to continue her walk with Christ.
But God was already ahead of her. A few weeks after moving, Tamana was contacted by an Afghan-focused ministry group in her new town. One woman from the group, Nadia, reached out to her and made it her mission to meet with Tamana every week. Nadia didn’t just offer help; she discipled Tamana, patiently walking with her as she deepened her understanding of the faith.
Each week, Tamana sat down with Nadia, poring over Scripture, asking questions, and sharing her heart. There were moments of doubt, moments when Tamana questioned the new path she was walking, but each time she felt supported and loved by this small group of believers who had come alongside her.
And then, one Sunday, Tamana took a bold step of obedience. The weight of her decision was not lost on her. Being baptized was not just a public declaration of her faith; it was a risk. It was a step into the unknown, in a country where she was still learning to find her way and where her new faith might bring complications with those who didn’t understand.
But she did it.
Last week, Tamana was baptized. Surrounded by her new church family, she made a proclamation: “I am a follower of Jesus.” The water, cold and refreshing, symbolized her new life. A life built not on her past, not on the loss she had endured, but on the hope she had found in Christ.
“It was a risk,” Tamana said with a smile, eyes shining with the truth of her words. “But God is with me. He is growing me in my new life in Christ.”
Today, Tamana is not just a survivor of hardship; she is a woman of faith, full of joy and hope. She has been transformed, not only by the love of the people around her, particularly her church family, who welcomed her with open arms, but by the love of a Savior who never left her.
God is bringing the nations to us so that His church might reflect His heart for all people. Let’s not miss this divine opportunity. Imagine the testimony of a local church known for loving the outsider so well that its community sees the gospel in action.
